


Callback

by Guardy



Series: The Thing About The Hat [2]
Category: Emergency! (TV 1972)
Genre: But mostly fluff, Fluff, Gen, Hank is scared of McConnike, Mike looks out for his captain, tiny bit of angst maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:01:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29544861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guardy/pseuds/Guardy
Summary: Hank's supposed to call McConnike back, but would clearly rather fight a three-alarm fire alone in his underwear than pick up that phone.Mike knows that sneaking into Hank's office and calling McConnike in his stead will probably result in latrine duty until the day he retires, but heaven knows there's only so much anxious pacing and lost sleep he'll put up with.
Relationships: Hank Stanley & Mike Stoker
Series: The Thing About The Hat [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2146968
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	Callback

**Author's Note:**

> And here's the last prompt fill, though I've definitely got more fics up my sleeve. The prompt for this one was "Hank Stanley" and "One Missed Call". Actually one of the first two prompt fills I wrote, but it happened to slot in really nicely after the other Hank And Mike one, so I held this one back and turned the whole McConnike thing into a little trilogy of fics instead. #3 is probably going to go online in around a week or so.
> 
> As per usual, original post plus Super Authentic 70's Typewriter Version over here on my E! blog: [[click](https://johnnys-green-pen.tumblr.com/post/643492247086710784/for-the-character-and-letter-meme-captain)]

The second Mike Stoker realized that the first few hours of his shift had been uncommonly pleasant and quiet, he should’ve known he was _fucked_. They were coming back from their second run that day - a simple grease fire, nothing major, and they’d been back at the station in the blink of an eye, clean-up included. And now he was looking forward to a nice, quiet lunch - or as nice as it got when Johnny was cooking, anyway. 

That nice, quiet lunch obviously never happened.

As they climbed off the engine and stepped into the rec room, Johnny greeted them with a cheerful “oh hey, Cap! McConnike called, said he wanted to talk to you”, and Hank froze so abruptly that Mike bumped straight into him and almost sent them both sprawling into the skinny paramedic. 

“Did he say why?” Hank asked. There was an odd, floaty quality to his voice that really didn't bode well. 

“Nope,” Johnny replied, twirling an oven mitt around his finger, seemingly not noticing his captain’s reaction, “just said we should tell you to call him back when you can. I didn’t really ask, though.”

“Oh no,” Hank muttered, staggered forward a few steps and sank down on one of the chairs around the kitchen table. “Oh, that can’t be good.”

Mike silently agreed, mostly just because it meant that Hank would be all over the place until he got that sorted out, but then again... McConnike seemed like a nice, jovial man, sure, but as long as Hank was so obviously scared of him and Mike didn’t know why, he didn’t trust the man for a single second. Heck, for all he knew the guy might single-handedly be responsible for Hank’s odd phobia of anyone with a higher rank than himself... not to mention that Mike hated seeing him like that, all frantically worried and uptight. It just wasn’t right. And so he resolved to keep an eye on his friend until the entire thing cleared up, just to be safe. More than he always did, anyway.

He figured it wouldn’t take long, in any case - after all, all Hank had to do was to pick up a phone and call the man back.

As it turned out, he hadn’t accounted for Hank’s incredible ability to fret and pace and argue himself into complete inactivity until he’d totally clammed up, without ever getting a single thing done.

And so, afternoon turned into evening and Hank didn’t say a word at the dinner table and his obvious unease was starting to put Johnny on edge, who’d seemingly picked up on the tense atmosphere without ever consciously noticing, and _that_ confused the heck out of Chet and caused Roy to keep throwing his partner wary glances, and in the end the entire shift ended up feeling decidedly _off_ , huddled around the big, square table and picking at their food, and that was a huge shame, really, because Mike had been looking forward to Marco’s excellent cooking paired with good company and pleasant conversation. 

Hank continued his pacing after dinner, trying to make his way into his office, probably, but turning back halfway, going back to the rec room door, turning on his heel again and walking back towards his office… and so on, and so forth, time and time again.

Mike’s patience was starting to wear a little thin by the time they were trying to sleep, because Hank _still_ hadn’t picked up a phone and was now tossing and turning in his bunk, way too deep into his own head to come anywhere close to sleeping. Mike could hear long, graceful fingers tapping against the brick dividing walls between the bunks, against the edge of the bunk itself, even drumming against the mattress. Quiet, barely audible mutters of “I’m alright, I’m alright, it’s _fine_ , everything’s _fine_...”

“ _Hank_ ,” Mike finally hissed, “go to _sleep_!”

He heard the other man jolt, clearly startled, before the movements stilled. Mike was pretty sure Hank wouldn’t sleep that night.

He _absolutely_ had to do _something_.

The night - regarding the tones going off, at least - was blissfully quiet, but come morning Hank still rolled out of bed looking like he hadn’t slept for even a single second in _days_ , and was carrying the weight of the world on his lanky shoulders… which was equally heartwrenching and impressive, given that Hank’s little problem had started less than 24 hours ago. 

And so, Mike made a decision: He watched Hank putter into the washroom to brush his teeth and shave, and snuck into his office to call McConnike himself. He wasn’t entirely sure if Hank would thank him for that or have his head for it, but _something_ had to be done, and he figured that, as Hank’s second-in-command and best friend, it was his solemn duty to do it.

The call ended up taking all of a minute, and left Mike shaking his head in exasperation. He went into the washroom to release Hank from his suffering, and found the man pacing yet again. Upon spotting Mike, Hank came over to him and looked at him with sad brown eyes.

“I think I know why McConnike called,” he said.

Mike knew the _nice_ thing to do would be to interrupt his friend and tell him what he’d just learned, put an end to his anxiety, but he had to admit that he wasn’t exactly looking forward to Hank’s reaction and the latrine duty he was probably going to get as a natural consequence of overreaching like this - and besides, he really _was_ terribly curious about what Hank thought he’d done. Heck, maybe Mike would even gain some insight into what exactly his friend’s issue was. And so he just raised an eyebrow and asked “oh?”

Hank dragged a hand through his hair, which stayed sticking up in all kinds of directions, his expressive, thick eyebrows creased with worry.

“Remember when I accidentally hit the Chief with a volleyball at the last department picnic? He must’ve finally figured out that it was me who did it. This is it! This is how my beautiful career ends! Squandered for a volleyball game we didn’t even win!” He sighed, and the genuine heartbreak reflected in his eyes was as touching as it was unnecessary. “Mike, it’s been _such_ an honor working with you…”

Mike decided he’d heard enough then - he put a hand on his captain’s shoulder.

“Hank,” he said calmly, “let me talk for a minute, alright?”

Hank blinked at him, clearly confused, but he did shut up.

“First of all,” the engineer continued, “I’m pretty sure McConnike still thinks it was Johnny who nailed him with that volleyball. Second, he seemed more impressed than anything. Third, I figured I’d do you a favor and called him for you --” he skillfully ignored the way Hank’s shoulders tensed up under his hand, and the man’s wide-eyed, frantic deer-in-the-headlights look -- “and it’s actually just about the practice drill on Tuesday -- apparently it looks like we might get hit by a pretty bad storm around then, so they decided to reschedule it for next week.”

The terrified look turned incredulous.

“And that’s _it_?” Hank asked.

“That’s it. Apparently we were supposed to get a physical memo about it, but it ended up at 15’s again, so the Chief decided to just call us directly.”

“That man,” Hank groaned and leaned heavily on the sink, “has _got_ to stop _doing_ that.”

Mike wisely decided to keep his comments to himself, and merely patted his captain’s shoulder in a reassuring gesture. For the most part, he was just glad that Hank was going to be alright. 


End file.
